The Great Unknown
by James Austin Valiant
Summary: Even Crusniks cannot live forever...


_Disclaimer: I came up with this idea yesterday and began writing it about four hours ago. Now it is complete, without so much as a glance from my girly or my beta. Oh well…this gets into some heavily Catholic/Christian stuff here and if you avoid fics like that, I'd avoid this one. AxE, hooray hooray! I promise they'll be a new chapter of Habeas Everto next week, but for now, read on!_

**The Great Unknown**

**By: James Austin Valiant**

The white light engulfed Father Abel Nightroad, pulling him hastily towards its center. He had never felt a pull so fierce, yet calm and serene. The dizzying pace he was moving at seemed to counteract the immense sense of welcome and peace he was feeling. _Where could I be going? _He recalled, only just a moment ago, he had been alongside with Father Tres, leading the latest branch of AX recruits into battle. _I wasn't suddenly attacked, was I? _The anxiety that normally would accompany his internal monologue seemed to have turned itself off; he had never felt so peaceful.

Abel felt the speed of his travel slowing down, but felt no wind or air moving about him as he settled. His sense of want had disappeared; normally, the priest felt as though he could devour an entire bakery without much more than a second thought. Hunger had no place here, and neither did thirst. The aches and pains, both physical and emotional, had melted away. The most unsettling aspect, however, was that he no longer felt the Crusnik nanomachines circulating in his bloodstream.

"Hello?" His voice still worked. It rebounded endlessly, the sound returning to his ears almost as soon as it had left his lips.

"Welcome, Abel Nightroad."

Abel spun around, then around again. There was no presence for the disembodied voice, but instead it seemed to emanate from every corner of the snow white realm he was in, as though the sound was the light itself.

"Where am I? How do you know me? Who are you? I must be on my way, please." Abel's politeness did not escape him. The voice seemed to be of no threat to him, and he wasn't one to instigate a fight. Especially since he was unarmed, without the Crusnik or his guns.

"I am called by many names, Abel Nightroad, but you may known me best as Saint Peter," The voice answered, and a man in a shimmering robe appeared before him, sporting a gray beard and a golden luminescence. "I presume a priest of your intelligence and caliber can figure out the rest."

"I'm…" Father Nightroad stopped to consider the implications of the statement he was about to make. "I'm dead."

"I'm terribly sorry, Abel, but that is indeed the truth. Your latest battle with the renegade Methuselah on the newly established space station has brought about your demise. Your head severed, your body disintegrated...the only relic you left behind was those spectacles of yours. But you never really had need of them, did you?" The sagely voice of Saint Peter comforted the priest somewhat.

"But I'm dead. I can't die. I'm a Crusnik."

"The Crusnik were just the nanomachines that dwelled in your bloodstream, Abel Nightroad. They never personified who you were, or what your overall mission was meant to be. Your spent the equivalent of twenty-five lifetimes proving that. Your soul, your human soul brought you here."

The priest absentmindedly ran his hand through his long, silver hair. "So, I'm guessing this is Heaven?"

"You're about half right," The Apostle smiled, "This is technically the Plenary Realm of Discernment, although most refer to it as the Pearly Gates. We're just going to go back and take a look at your life, to see if your soul rightfully belongs in Heaven."

Abel glanced down at his clothes. They were a blinding alabaster, marked with the same cerulean accents of his old clothes. Clothes he hadn't worn since he'd left Lilith lying in her tomb, under the Vatican, sealed away and hidden by an endless maze of catacombs.

"Lilith? Is she here, too?" Abel asked anxiously, then shut his mouth quickly. He didn't want to say anything out of turn, especially since his whole life was being evaluated.

"All in good time, Abel. But let's go back to your earliest memory, shall we?" Saint Peter spoke,

"first, your earliest, significant memory…" The bearded man trailed off as an image projected on the the right hand side, moving in the exact same manner as Abel's memories.

"You don't really hate them, Abel…" The visage of Lilith, alive, moved Abel immensely. The two of them were alone, staring down at the massive blue and green planet. "You act so rashly and speak so harshly."

"No!" Abel saw his younger self protest, his arms crossed in a defiant manner. "You're wrong, Lilith! I hate them and I want them all destroyed! It's useless, they're useless!"

Father Nightroad turned to Saint Peter. "Please, Saint Peter. I don't really want to see this. Surely, all this information of my life is known to Heaven? Does it really have to replay?"

"It is your life, Abel Nightroad. You are correct in that Heaven knows all, both your triumphs and transgressions. Perhaps we should look at something else?" The Apostle queried as the screen started up again, to a point more familiar to the priest.

"Here is your room, Father Nightroad." It was a voice he hadn't heard in ages. Sister Esther Blanchett, his close friend and partner. _Had it really been a thousand years since we laid her to rest? _

"Why thank you…" The disgust in his past self's voice was more than apparent, and he remembered his room at St. Matthias as rather dank and dungeon-like. "So I suppose I shouldn't tell Bishop Laura about our little run-in earlier, hm?"

"Please don't, Father." Esther had practically begged him.

Saint Peter noticed that the priest had his attention quite focused on this scene. "A fond memory, Abel Nightroad?"

"I suppose," Abel responded, nodding with restraint, "it was a rocky start to a wonderful relationship. Esther and I saw each other through some good times, and then through some very rough times...it is the good times I like to recall the most."

"Was it hard to know you would outlive her?" Saint Peter paused. "Was it hard to outlive her?"

"It was, Peter," Abel began, speaking softly, "there was such a big fanfare that day. All the hoopla and ceremony surrounding the Queen of Albion's funeral. I wanted so badly to say goodbye to her, to give her Last Rites as she passed through to the next life...but I felt she was still angry at me for leaving her all those years ago to chase after Cain.

"Even after my brother was vanquished," He glanced up, his eyes filled with sorrow, "I couldn't bring myself to go to her. I wanted to...I sincerely wanted to. I got as close as the Buckingham Palace Gardens, you know. I saw her there, that day. She must have been about thirty-five or so. She was playing with her three sons. Imagine that! My Miss Esther, with three sons. They were all from a marriage to Ludwig of Germanicus. She married, and forgot about me. Where would I began? How could I ever attempt to apologize?"

Peter nodded. "You loved her, yet you denied her."

"We were so close, then I ripped myself out of her life. How could I have gone back to her?" Abel lamented, seemingly ignorant to the Apostle's comment about love.

The bearded man chuckled. "You know, I know a thing or two about denying someone I pledged my loyalty to. He forgave me, and even made me the head of His Church. Go figure, right? I'm sure Esther would've forgiven you, Abel...did you learn how to forgive yourself?"

"Over time, I did." Abel relented. "I knew what my purpose was. Tres and I would be the link to rebuilding the world, a world torn apart by warfare and bloodshed. Together, we rebuilt the Vatican and trained new members of the clergy and AX. The Pope wanted to raise us to the rank of Cardinals, but I knew my work was much too important. I'm a traveling priest for the Vatican, nothing more, nothing less."

"Your humility and pacific nature is astounding, even to me," Saint Peter commented proudly, "Abel Nightroad, the work you have on Earth is commendable and laudable. I see no reason why you should not be granted the right to cross through the Plenary Realm of Discernment and straight through to the plane of Heaven."

Abel noticed that the Apostle had disappeared, and that again the landscape had changed. In front of him stood a beautiful gold fountain, flowing with the clearest and pure water he had ever seen in his life. From all sides, a giant golden city arose, with columns and towers that would have made the most spectacular architects jealous. The sight was greater and grander than anything he had ever seen before, than any technology or structure ever conceived. The air smelled of sweet incense, burning softly all around him.

The chorus was what struck him the most. The chorus of angels, singing the praises of Creation and of the Almighty, in unison. From one level of song to next, Abel had never heard such beauty. It was as though the most beautiful, brassy trumpet had combined with the mellow nature of the tuba, intermarried with a soft flute and wrapped itself up in the human voice. _Spectacular, _the priest thought, _even more magnificent than I ever could have imagined!_

"Father Nightroad?"

He turned, slowly. Abel expected to see the aged Queen he had viewed so long ago, the longest reigning monarch Albion had seen that century. Instead, there was a young girl about fifty yards in front of him, no more than twenty. She was dressed in a modest white habit, a rosary hanging from her neck, and a smile adorning her cherub like face.

"ESTHER, IT'S YOU!" The priest shouted excitedly, happy to see his friend from so long ago. He sprinted to her, arms flailing wildly, but then returned to a more formal expression. "Oh, I mean...Your Majesty, it's lovely to see you again."

The nun giggled and hugged her friend tightly. "Father Nightroad, I've missed you."

He returned her hugs, with equal intensity. "I've missed you too, my dear Esther."

She pulled away from him, and reached a small hand up to touch his face. Esther stroked his cheek gently with the backside of her hand. "You're not wearing your glasses, Father."

"I never really needed them, you know," He chuckled warmly, "Those were just a ploy to distract my enemies."

"I need you to know something, Father…" Esther moved her hands to his, grasping them firmly. Abel could feel the immense amount of compassion flowing from her, empathically entering him from her immortal soul. This was not the human Esther he had know on Earth, her human fallacies were gone. Before him was the pure soul of Esther Blanchett, the woman who had stood by him, as a partner and as a friend.

"I forgive you, Father Abel Nightroad." She smiled knowingly, as if to calm the only regret his soul carried. "I forgive you. You did what you felt was right. And although I was bitter about you never coming back, I grew to understand why you did what you did. I forgave you, Abel Nightroad. Because I love you, I forgave you."

Abel leaned forward and pressed his lips to the nun's. Their kiss was brief, a mere pressing of their ethereal flesh. "I love you too, Esther Blanchett. I'm sorry it took me one thousand years to get around to saying it, but you know something?"

She anxiously sprung to her tiptoes and stole another kiss from the priest. "What's that?"

"Now, we have eternity."


End file.
